


The Sun is in Your Eyes

by NeverComingHome



Category: Aladdin (1992), Disney Princesses, Mulan (1998)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 03:44:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverComingHome/pseuds/NeverComingHome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mulan helps Jasmine acquire the throne in exchange for...nothing?</p>
<p>The tiniest bit of plot, but really more of an excuse to write porn. Full disclosure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Contains: a bit of dubcon grinding.

She kneels for her, like the golden scales were waiting for her armor’s touch. All the other suitors merely bowed, once to her father and once to Jasmine as if the order mattered. Jasmine watched Mulan shake her father’s hand in the archway with a bright, yet nervous smile, chuckling at his attempts to speak the language; assuring him she knew this land’s dialects well. A red lizard (Jasmine heard it referred to as “Mushu”) ran across Mulan’s shoulders, flicking its tongue until Mulan clamped its mouth shut as if to silence it.

“There was a mix up,” she explains now, “your father heard half my story and assumed I was male.”

“To be fair you certainly boast the war record of one.” Jasmine circles the still kneeling woman.

“Either way I’m honored to meet the man respected for not having one at all. Your father is known for finding peace in unlikely places.”

“And what am I known for?”

“Your beauty, though no record of that would do you justice. If I’d had you as an example maybe I’d be in a dress somewhere, trying to look pretty.”

But if that happened she wouldn’t be here, eyes still downward while Jasmine tries in vain to see the form that has worked its way through the ranks alongside men twice her size; fighting not only against the enemy, but the laws of her culture. After learning the truth the Sultan had spoken with Mulan at length and, without a word to Jasmine, sent her through the archway. In the eyes of their world this meant Mulan was an acceptable suitor and, should Jasmine wish it, much more.

“You speak of my beauty and yet you dare not look at me, soldier. Remove your armor and see me as a more than the daughter of a man you respect. Your opinion might change.”

Obediently Mulan stands and undoes the ties of her chest plate, strips the padding from her legs, unbuckles the straps of rope holding the sheaths to weapons she surrendered at the palace gates, and finally doffs her helmet to top the pile. Jasmine had meant only the helmet (the soldiers of her order considered it the only “true” armor), but did not object to the display. The remaining leggings and a tucked in shirt outlined every feminine curve and toned muscle, the material thin as rice paper to accommodate the heat of the desert.

Mulan doesn’t fidget beneath Jasmine’s gaze, but wants to. She’d respectfully not mentioned what else she’d learned of the sultan’s daughter. That she’s opposed to marriage and hoping to rule the kingdom herself, impulsive and would sooner get herself killed on the streets looking for a good time than understand her father’s desire to keep her safe like he’d failed to do for her mother. Mulan knows that she’d talked herself into doing this as a favor to the emperor who was convinced Mulan being there was fate. She’s a commoner who gained nobility and could show Jasmine the sultan’s reasons for wanting her to be married off. Princes with guards were all well, but a prince and a guard rolled into a soldier who exemplified the very traits a peaceful nation would seek in a strong ally? Mulan could hardly fault him for sending her, knowing the risk should the Sultan be unable to see past her sex.

Jasmine steps in closer, toeing aside the pile of garments to trail a finger up Mulan’s arm. She’s like a figurine, a toy Jasmine hadn’t known existed, but knew for sure she wouldn’t be denied. Her front presses against Mulan’s when she reaches behind to undo the other’s tightly knotted bun; long dark hair immediately falling across her shoulders. It isn’t as long as Jasmine’s, but different in texture, polishing wax from the inside of the helmet left on it that dissolves when Jasmine runs her fingers through the strands. The movement brings their faces close and while a smile is on Jasmine’s, Mulan remains straight faced if not a little weak kneed at the contact.

“Are you finished?” She mumbles.

“Not quite. You know this is the part where you convince me why I should marry you.”

“Your father wishes it and I‘ve convinced him, but in the end the decision is yours. Do you love me?”

At last Mulan has shaken her and Jasmine stops playing with her hair, “Love doesn‘t matter when it comes to marriage.”

“I agree,” Mulan counters, “but does it matter to you?”

Jasmine pauses to think about it, finding her true opinion in the silence. “Yes.”

Mulan steps away, going to the pile for a small box and prying a band set with diamond and jade. She kneels once again before Jasmine, ignoring the shout that comes from a servant behind them.

“I, Fa Mulan, do humbly request that if upon my first war leave you decide you don’t wish to me marry me- I will dissolve this union, pay my fine and banish myself from these lands, leaving you as acting sultan.” She raises her voice so that the small assembly of people listening in can hear. “Do you accept my proposal, Jasmine?”

“Yes.”

Before Mulan can stand, Jasmine all but leaps into her arms like a pouncing jungle cat. Mulan fumbles and lands on her bottom with the princess all but in her lap, laughing at the other’s antics.

“Thank you,” Jasmine whispers, laughing as she presses kisses over Mulan’s face, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

 

~*~

Her father breathes a sigh of relief when Mulan and Jasmine kiss and the crowd applauds, birds sweeping over the newlyweds while Jafar claps unenthusiastically behind them. Akbar had given up his position to his new daughter-in-law and was readying himself for a trip to one of their newly acquired lands. Jafar opted to go with him, hoping to stir up some trouble and gain control of it since absolute power was out of the question. Mulan’s general had brought caravans of fighters to accompany her, having expected a refusal and wanting to let his men experience the wealth of a new land. Her advisors were many and Jafar dared not go up against them when he could so easily sway the older man once they were safely out of reach.

Mulan watches the previous sultan depart, eyes narrowed at Jafar. There was something not right about him and she’d caught that bird of his terrorizing Mushu earlier, pecking at the tiny dragon’s tail and squawking obscenities it had no doubt picked up from its owner. If only he’d stuck around long enough for her to consult her spirit guides about him.

“Where is your head Fa Mulan!” Her general shouts, “Dare you keep such a lovely bride waiting for the old one-two?”

He makes an obscene gesture with his hand and the men roar with laughter. Sure enough, Jasmine is already in one of the wagons he surrendered for her use. Jasmine’s people had fashioned what they called a “paradise” around a small lake of water with servants sent days before to prepare it for royal use. She leaves Dao in charge and bids the others make use of the palace in exchange for all they’d done for her, playing the part that their days together were few. The offer was met with bone breaking hugs and helmet-butts that left her seeing stars.

 

~*~

On the ride there, Mulan fills the silence with how she achieved her rank and the lands she’s visited; Jasmine tells her of suitors she’s met and glimpses of town she‘s stolen beneath her father‘s nose. The conversation flows with such ease they nearly forget it was meant to end. The servants point to a speck in distance where they have set up camp, informing Mulan they would return in a few days.

“You’re leaving?”

One of the servants, a male who feeds breadcrumbs to his monkey, answers, “So that you and your bride can have the privacy the first week of marriage warrants.”

“But, what if I need something?”

“Princess Jasmine knows her wifely duties, Fa Mulan,” His eyes flick towards the princess. “She will attend to all your needs until we return.”

“But-”

“Blessings.” He turns on her to lead the others across the sands. Mulan lets him do it, having no other choice. Jasmine has already made her way past the planted palms to the marble platform where their marital bed has been arranged. The same satin covering the pillows is above it, anchored above a bit of tarp shading them from the sun. Baskets of fruit surround it, meats under a small archway of stone beneath the water to keep them cool and fresh. Jasmine spreads out on the bed, plucking a grape to toss up and into her mouth.

“Did I hear the boy mention something about ‘wifely duties’?”

“Uh, no, what? Carry on.”

Mulan begins to remove her wedding costume, wishing she’d kept the undergarments of her land instead of the flimsy material used here. At the slightest breeze her shirt threatens to blow above her head and the waistline of the pants was meant for a man, slipping off her hips with almost every step. She sits at the edge of the lake and tears one of her knapsacks to make a belt, glancing around for anything thicker to fashion a vest from.

Jasmine watches her. It isn’t that she's in love with Mulan, but she wants Mulan to want her. Soon Jasmine would be ruler, free to come and go as she pleased and here is a woman who had all that. She’s the kind of woman Jasmine saw herself keeping company with and the seeming lack of interest was a blow to an ego that had been constantly stroked since birth.

Mulan starts when she feels a mouth press against her ear, “Are you coming to bed?”

“I’m not tired.” She responds quietly.

“Neither am I.” Jasmine rubs Mulan’s shoulders, “Come to bed anyway.”

Seeing the need for it Mulan puts aside the stitching. She explains to Jasmine that before she was only being courteous, going through the form she’d been taught; she expects nothing from Jasmine until she dissolves the marriage, but her company.

“Are you disinterested? I know I shouldn’t assume, but I’ve heard things as well… ” Jasmine trails off, not wanting to admit she’d gotten into the habit of eavesdropping. It had only came up once, but from what she gathered Mulan had taken a girl into her tent occasionally and none of the resulting sounds were that of conversation.

“It’s not that,” Mulan cuts in. “I’d just rather we kept this chaste, seeing as it’s not a real marriage.”

Jasmine sits back on her heels, “It’s real to me.”

_Oh god_. Mulan recovers, trying for a smile, “I know it seems that way now, but you don’t owe me anything for doing this. Helping you is it’s own reward.”

The look on Mulan’s face, half embarrassed, half resilient told Jasmine she’d thought about this and had her mind made up. She didn’t argue the point.

~*~

After that they manage a pleasant time up until the night the servants were due to return. The desert was unforgiving in the dark, but the winds pick up even more frightfully. Mulan enjoyed lazing in her furs by the lake, but when the wind shakes the nailed in posts, Jasmine puts her foot down. She threatens to drag the warrior to bed and Mulan smiles, believing her.

Jasmine flicks the last of the blankets over her, glancing about for more, “Are you warm?”

“No, do you have a lion skin around?” Jasmine rolls her eyes. “Or a gazelle? Fetch me a gazelle, wife.”

“What’s a gazelle?”

“It’s like a zebra.”

“What’s a zebra?”

“It’s kind of a striped camel without a hump.”

“And what’s a camel?”

“Well it’s like a,” Mulan stops. “You’re making fun of me.”

“You? Never.” She gets beneath the covers, turning on her side and staring at the other’s back, “Honestly, are you warmer?”

“Getting there.”

Jasmine places an arm across Mulan’s waist and moves in closer. Mulan straightens out, teeth coming together tightly. “Relax, soldier, surely you know the merits of body warmth.”

Mulan nods curtly, refusing to let Jasmine tease her for the rest of the night. Soon they would return to the palace and days after that Mulan would be heading home with her men. She keeps herself awake thinking about whether or not she would tell them the truth and whether her general would agree with her. Agraba was a strong ally and the emperor wouldn’t take the news easily. Banning herself might be the same as banning all future negotiations if there was some loophole preventing Jasmine from reigning.

“You’re shivering.”

“What?”

Jasmine yawns. “Move around a little, it will help, trust me. Like this.” She begins to move her hips, shifting them back and forth, the slip rubbing against Mulan’s backside. “You’re not moving.”

“You’re moving enough for the both of us.”

Sleep deepens Jasmine’s chuckle so it becomes more like a purr, vibrating against the back of Mulan’s head where Jasmine’s rests against the pillow. She hooks a leg between Mulans’, continuing to rotate and subtly grind. Jasmine knows Mulan is thinking of the belly dancers she saw while walking the streets to the palace gates, the way the muscles in their stomachs flexed and made the golden disks catch the sunlight. Jasmine told her she loved watching them when she snuck out, the way they made the metal sing, and how many coins she’d lost to street performers. She loved her city and took the things she learned from it wherever she went. Jasmine remembers how she felt when one had taken her hands and taught her the same movements she’s using, not altogether innocently, to get a rise out of her so to speak.

“Are you warm yet?” She teases, but her tone makes it clear it’s not a tease at all, but a promise. “Shall I keep going, Sultan? Do you wish it?” Her words become nonsense as she begins to rock herself more earnestly against Mulan, the slip moving up so Mulan can feel skin against the back of her leg, wet skin. She swallows hard.

“Jasmine?”

“Yes,” she whimpers, though not in response to her name. “Yesye-” Jasmine bites into the pillow to hide her squeak of pleasure, slowly relaxing her hold on Mulan and easing onto her back. It was nice, but not what she wanted. She touches the small of Mulan’s back. “Are you warm yet?”

“Very. Thank you, princess.”

Jasmine sits up. Mulan’s eyes are closed but the edge of a blanket is clutched tightly into her fist. Jasmine drops a soft kiss above her ear. “You’re too good, soldier, far too good.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains: Some ust sword fighting

 

Thankfully the servant’s return meant the tension was eased some. The maids went through their laundry while the men hauled in fresh meat, replaced the fruit, and tidied the paradise for future use. Mulan took one of them aside to talk about Jafar whose bedchambers he once tended to. Jafar was a serpent in Akbar’s ear, responsible for the few hostile takeovers that occurred under his reign. 

 

“Do you think it’s safe leaving them alone together?”

 

“That land isn’t known for much outside of pottery. Jafar would need a demon to stir any trouble there.” He adds, “So I hear.”

 

“You listen well, friend, thank you.”

 

“My pleasure, is there anything else?”

 

Not far Mulan hears Jasmine’s laughter and looks for her. The boy with the monkey is tossing oranges at it and Jasmine is clapping while it juggles them, frowning at its owner who continues to throw in more and more fruit. Mulan politely dismisses the servant and tries not to jog to the trio.

 

“Mulan! This is Aladdin and his adorable pet Abu. Can you make him do it again, Aladdin?”

 

“Sure, I don’t see why not. Come on Abu and this time,” he picks up a watermelon, “we’re going for the gold.”

 

The monkey shakes its head furiously and runs behind Mulan. Aladdin frowns at it.

 

“Maybe some other time?” He smiles at Jasmine. “Bye, princess.”

 

“Bye, Aladdin.”

 

He gathers up Abu and bows curtly to Mulan who is watching Jasmine watch him. When she’s caught, Jasmine blushes and says something about checking on dinner, brushing past Mulan to follow after him.

 

~*~

Jasmine likes Aladdin, he’s a bit of a fibber, but cute and  turned from street rat to royal aid. He’s interesting and exciting, but reckless and far from marriage material. Even still she wonders if he’s what she can look forward to in the days after Mulan leaves. 

 

The night before they leave paradise Jasmine whiles away time making tigers from flowers and thinking of how Raja will greet her when she returns. 

 

Mulan picks up one of the striped figures. “You miss him?”

 

“I’ve had him since he was a cub.” She twists another stem absently into a tail. “I usually take him everywhere.”

 

“They’d think you were a great beast master where I come from, riding in on a full grown tiger and treating it as a pet.”

 

“Oh, he’s a softie if you can get past the ravenous claws and deadly mouth.”

 

“Meanwhile I have only a serpent who thinks himself a dragon. Which of us makes the better tamer?”

 

What was once sweet instantly becomes predatory when Jasmine reaches for a flute, climbing off the bed to the corner where Mulan sits. She begins to play, moving her body from the ground up. Mulan rolls her eyes, but when Jasmine shows no signs of stopping she plays along and rises to her feet. Spurred on by her participation, Jasmine walks backwards and Mulan follows, pointing her toes and bending her arms in the dance of her home while Jasmine wriggles her hips. The tent is dimly lit by a single lantern and Jasmine leads Mulan across the bed and then circles around it, notes faltering when Mulan missteps and nearly falls face first into the curtain.

 

“Well let it not be said your people lack grace.”

 

“It’s not as easy as it looks,” Mulan counters in the face of Jasmine’s smirk, “the matchmaker would make a fool of the most elegant woman.”

 

“Oh, you’re exaggerating. Teach me the dance.”

 

Jasmine sets aside the flute and comes to her side. It takes a few tries, but Mulan picks the flute up when she’s taught Jasmine as well as she can. The other woman starts over twice, but on the third try she goes through the motions with flawless technique, perfect stance and eyes cast downward with the subtext of humility. As surely as Mulan was born to fight, Jasmine seemed destined for regality of every shade. What it took Mulan years to half master Jasmine had been able to mimic at the drop of a pin. Not just a pretty face after all…  

 

“You’ve stopped playing.” Jasmine points out helpfully.

 

“Have I?”

 

Jasmine walks heel to foot to Mulan and pulls the flute from where it rested silently on her lower lip. Mulan feels short of breath, frozen and shivering, but in no way cold. For the first time since she’s met Jasmine she thinks of her mouth and how it would taste, of drunken talks about wanting someone who stimulated her intellectually as well as a physically, ( _a girl worth fighting for_ ), someone she’d want to welcome her home after too long a battle. 

 

“You’re tired, I’m sorry to have kept you up.”

 

“No, don’t be ridiculous.”

 

“I‘ll look in on Aladdin, that will give you time to fall asleep without interruption.”

 

“Jasmine.”

 

“Goodnight.”

 

“Jasmine, wait.”

 

“Goodnight, Mulan.” Her voice makes it sound final, leaving Mulan no other choice but to let her go.

 

~*~

“You worry over nothing.” Dao says upon her return. “Besides, what’s your rush? Request an audience with Jafar when they return at the year’s end.”

 

Mulan wishes she could tell him she’d be gone before the year reached its end, but couldn’t. Instead she pulls aside a few of the soldiers and sends them on a private errand before retiring to the terrace. Looking out on the courtyard she spies Jasmine talking with Aladdin. She has no reason to be jealous, she’d all but pushed her not-wife away on their honeymoon, but if Jasmine wished to earn the favor of the people Mulan is the one who needs to be at fault. If they believed Jasmine guilty of adultery they’d resist the exchange of power and might call for her father’s reinstatement or, worse, Jafar who was next in line for lack of an heir.

 

Aladdin sticks his tongue out at something Jasmine says and takes her hand in his. Mushu clambers onto Mulan’s shoulders.

 

“I guess this means it’s time we moved on, huh?” Mushu’s shoulders lift and drop in a half shrug. “Thanks, you’re a big help.”

 

 

~*~

Jasmine’s only just left Aladdin at the gardens and was on her way to the practice hall to meet with the royal guard for exercise when Mulan intercepts her. Mulan threw herself into the work of her predecessor, but always reserved her mornings for Jasmine to stretch and pray with or tour the grounds as if they had all the time in the world. Today was the first since they’d arrived back that Jasmine had awoke to an empty room and been unable to find her.

 

She finishes pinning her hair and steps back to the edge of the circle, swinging her sword in a graceful arc so the sharpened end points towards the middle of the circle, directly at Mulan.

 

“Shall we spar?”

 

Mulan sits cross legged in the sand, half smiling when she notices Jasmine’s pose.

 

“I was thinking more along the lines of a brisk jog with the swords as weight. I wanted to talk to you about something.”

 

“We always talk. I’ve been practicing with the royal guards and Aladdin, but it’s not the same.”

 

“I don’t ‘practice‘, I fight.”

 

“Well then go big or go home, sultan.”

 

Mulan laughs, but Jasmine continues to stand her ground. “Alright.” She jumps to her feet on the strength of her legs alone, sword in hand. “Take down to win?”

 

“No.” Jasmine wraps her other hand around the handle, eyes narrowed. “First strike.” 

 

They walk along the edge of the circle, neither stepping into the middle just yet. Jasmine whips her sword this way and that foolishly, tiring her arm before the fight begins. Mulan wonders if she ever suffered the same lack of humility, if she was ever so overabundant with arrogance, but then again she never had the privilege of fighting against those sworn to protect her. The men she now trusts with her life had been callous in their sparring with “Ping”. 

 

But it was Jasmine who dictated the terms of this session and if she wanted to be stubborn, Mulan would fight her as the ruler she wishes to be.

 

With all the impatience Mulan predicted, Jasmine places a naked foot within the circle. The first move is critical, Mulan runs with all her force towards Jasmine who is taken off guard at the swiftness of her movements. She shifts instantly into a defensive position, her mouth dropping when Mulan comes up short, swings the dullest part of her blade into her hand and rams the butt into Jasmine’s side while keeping her distance. Jasmine drops and rolls, giving Mulan time to recover the handle and close the gap, her sword strikes sword as Jasmine strains onto her feet, pressing forward against Mulan’s sword then stepping back, the metals slicing against one another loudly as they part. 

 

“Where’d a pretty thing like you learn to block a move like that?” Their swords come together again. 

 

“Where’d a pretty thing like you learn to make a move like that?”

 

“War!” Jasmine swipes at her feet and Mulan jumps over it, bringing her own over Jasmine’s head which dips beneath it while her fist swings at Mulan’s face and misses. It tips her balance and Mulan uses the opportunity to strike her with the side of her arm, still wielding her weapon and knocking Jasmine off her feet once again with the weight of it added to her own strength. “I asked you first.”

 

Jasmine uses her feet to propel herself away from Mulan, sword back in both hands and pointed upwards as her mind races for a way to distract the other.

 

“I’ve been studying you.”

 

“When? It seems every time I look you’re with that boy.”

 

“Well perhaps you’re not looking often ENOUGH.” Her foot strikes at Mulan’s ankle, kicking furiously with no result.

 

“You exhausted yourself with all that pageantry.” She hooks her sword beneath Jasmine’s shirt. “Concede the fight and you’ll have strength for a race.”

 

She brings her sword beneath Mulan’s, tearing her shirt up along the middle when she thrusts it upwards, but successfully putting Mulan off kilter enough to slip away and back onto her feet with a smirk. 

 

“Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy my pageantry.”

 

“Everything is a performance to you.”

 

“Oh, please, any dancer schooled in weaponry could pass for one of your soldiers; I can‘t tell the difference between a general in war and a performer during recital.”

 

“Then it’s no wonder this land is known for peace.” Mulan blocks another ferocious strike and laughs, “’Why yes all our men were captured,” she bends at the waist as the blunt side of Jasmine’s sword comes at her, “but they remembered to point their toes when they fell.”

 

“Meanwhile you had to bring a whole army to meet one girl.” Jasmine lashes out and misses. “I mean I’ve heard about fear of intimacy, but Krishna.”

 

“I‘d rather be afraid of intimacy,” she employs her first move, this time the strike to Jasmine’s abdomen causing her to let go of her sword, “than of protecting my flank.”  She straddles Jasmine, pressing the dulled side of her sword beneath her neck. “I win.”

 

“First strike, remember?”

 

“You’re weaponless and between my legs if you haven’t noticed.”

 

“We agreed on the terms of this fight, follow them.”

 

Jasmine’s teeth are clenched, but the face Mulan puts on during battle is quickly shedding, replaced with one of concern.

 

“There’s no need.”

 

“First strike.”

 

“I won’t do it.”

 

“No?”

 

Mulan drops her sword, “No.”

 

Within seconds she feels a sting at her thigh and looks down to see a dagger in Jasmine’s hand (hidden in the band of her leggings) , the end red with her blood. 

 

“Then I win.”

 

Stunned, Mulan eases off Jasmine who gets up abruptly and stomps off towards the palace. 

 

~*~

Jasmine brings her knees up below her chin. Stupid stupid stupid. She knew Mulan’s heart belonged to China and is only doing this as a favor to Jasmine. She knew it from the start and knows it know. She also knows Mulan thinks her to be only a headstrong princess who needed constant looking after, her words though helpful hinting that she privately wondered if Jasmine was up to the task of being sultan. Jasmine had been doing everything in her power to remedy this, she requested her teachers tutor her in Mulan’s dialect, matched her story for story, studied martial arts, given bits of herself she hadn’t trusted anyone else with and after all that? Mulan still questioned her leadership, thought her an immature girl with a crush as if Mulan is the first handsome warrior she’d met. She’d been courted by generals, kings, princes, laymen, ex samurai and men who could turn Raja into a lapdog with the gentle croon of their voice. 

 

None of them had what she wanted, that “ziing” that made her heart triple beat in her chest at the mere sight of them approaching. Jasmine sighs, looking at the blanket of stars. 

 

Perhaps she wished for too much.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains: the sex

“Is she asleep yet?” Mulan asks Aladdin as he passes.

 

“I don’t know, she‘s been in there a few hours.” Off Mulan’s hesitance he raises an eyebrow, “Do you want me to check?”

 

Mulan lingers in front of the entrance. As the staff grew fond of Mulan they grew less fond of the ex street rat who spent the majority of his time strolling the grounds with the Sultan’s new bride. Most are still unaware of her intentions to leave and despite brief spats of jealousy Mulan didn’t wish any sort of harm on him. As if to solidify her decision a guard nearby clears his throat, drawing Aladdin’s eyes to his glare.

 

“Nevermind, I have things to do” he smiles nervously as he backs off in the opposite direction. “Goodnight, Sultan.”

 

After a sobering breath she enters to find Jasmine not sleeping, but folding Mulan’s things from the bed.

 

“I can do that.”

 

 Jasmine smiles ruefully. “One of the girls asked if I’d been arranging our dear leader‘s things.”

 

“Why learn to do something you won’t have to soon?” Mulan sits beside her. “Besides I’ve beat you to it every morning.”

 

“I know, you’re always doing things that aren’t your responsibility. I thought I should try it out for once.”

 

Mulan opens her mouth to reply then closes it, unsure of what to say. In place of words she kisses Jasmine’s cheek. 

 

“Thank you, sultan.”

 

The implication of Mulan’s sparse words is too much. Jasmine turns her face and Mulan’s lips are between her eyes. She pulls away for only a moment before kissing Jasmine’s mouth and it’s better than she imagined. Those nights spent facing away from the woman who now parts her lips and grasps at Mulan as if in wait of her second guessing it. Mulan shrugs out of her robe, quelling Jasmine’s fears as she does so, and eases Jasmine’s back into the blankets. Her leg presses between Jasmine’s as they kiss, mouths parting to explore while their hands do the same, lifting, tugging, tickling and forgetting the reasons why they should or shouldn’t be doing this. 

 

Without Mulan’s guidance her fingers map a trail of goosebumps, pressing and rubbing over old scars to loosen the muscles beneath. Each time Mulan attempts to kiss down her front Jasmine brings her up for another a kiss, palming her breast while bending and straightening the leg between Mulan’s, synching her movements. Mulan whimpers, the hand lying flat and holding her beginning to waver. She breaks the kiss to press her mouth into the curve of Jasmine’s neck, struggling not to pant like some feral animal with Jasmine still in her night gown and her already in need of more. 

 

Jasmine reaches between Mulan‘s legs, unable to hide her grin at the other‘s quick response to her touch. For all her talk of remaining chaste, Mulan‘s body was telling a completely different tale, one of being seconds away from betraying its owner and making Mulan plead for Jasmine to be inside her. She wonders how long she could tease her before it happened and intends to fight out, but then Mulan kisses her and it speaks volumes of her state. She opens her mouth to Jasmine’s tongue without a second of hesitance, gasps against her lips and tries to lift away from the leg between her own so she doesn’t come before they’ve even really began.

“You’re just a big softie, aren’t you?”

 

“Let me-”

 

“No.” Jasmine rolls Mulan onto her back, “Let me.”

 

Mulan was positive she’d been on top in her fantasies. She’d punched Dao while images of Jasmine’s parted legs plagued her thoughts and she tried not to think of what it’d be like to take her in the flower garden along the room sized fountain. There’s no way she’s complaining about this however, Jasmine’s painted nails on the tops of her thighs while she drops kisses between Mulan’s legs and darts inside her with her tongue. Her mouth feels too dry while elsewhere she feels too slick, reaching a hand behind her to grasp at the golden bars while she tries to keep her lower half in check. Jasmine quickens with each thrust which doesn’t help, whispering sweet, filthy, encouraging things as if pleasing Mulan is as natural as anything else she’s done.

 

Maybe it is.

 

Jasmine’s lips are wet when she kisses her and Mulan rides out her climax with the princess palming her in time with the twitch of her abdomen, their mouths only just touching so Jasmine won’t muffle the sound of the other’s moans. 

 

When Mulan finally relaxes Jasmine props herself up on an elbow and strokes her cheek with the back of her hand.

 

“How did I do?”

 

“Gold star.”

 

“Not bad.” 

 

“No I mean I’m seeing gold stars and clouds and dancing dragons.”

 

They‘re both smiling when Jasmine kisses her, their teeth bumping, “I can do it again.”

 

Mulan shakes her head, but Jasmine is already moving her hands again. Mulan tries to stop her and they toy with each other for a moment, kissing while swatting away the other’s touch and trying not to end up on the bottom. In a cheap move Jasmine tugs a blanket from under Mulan’s knee and watches the usual graceful warrior tilt backward off the canopy. Jasmine chokes back a giggle and peeks over the edge.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

Nothing. She frowns, glancing about to see where Mulan went only to be tugged from behind off the bed and into the other’s lap.

 

“That wasn’t funny.”

 

“Then why am I laughing?”

 

“Because you’re,” she looks over her shoulder to see Mulan looking back at her with a serene look that sums up the phrase ‘quiet joy’. She can feel it, the words, hear them, taste them. She tries to say it.

 

“I want you inside me.”

 

That’s not them, but it’s what comes out. Mulan reacts accordingly, sharp and soft all at once when she nips the back of Jasmine’s neck and tilts her forward on the ground. The marble is cold on Jasmine’s palms and knees, but she has only a second for it to bother her before Mulan starts to kiss down her back, rubbing her from behind. She sucks marks while slowly turning Jasmine on, marks that tingle and don’t hurt but will last for days. Jasmine lets her thoughts wander, but at the first touch of Mulan’s mouth her forehead she jerks forward. 

 

“Relax.”

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Mulan kisses the arch of her back and two fingers enter her from behind, both of them gasping. Jasmine’s mouth hangs open and the moment there is pain there isn’t. Mulan tickles each time she adds a finger, kisses her when she quickens her pace, distracting Jasmine’s sense until she’s found a rhythm that works. Jasmine has no qualms about showing her pleasure, while Mulan’s moans were a whisper hers she lets echo off the walls. She cries out when her arms are bent atop one another and her forehead is pressed to her skin while Mulan presses down with her thumb and twists so deep within Jasmine her climax feels like she’s coming apart from the inside out. Her body quivers, threatening to collapse, but Mulan is there to wrap an arm around her waist and cradle her back into her lap. She gives her a few more moments then stands with jasmine in her arms, spreading her out on the bed and kissing the inside of her shoulder when she gets in beside. 

 

Satisfied with herself, Mulan sits up to pull the blankets over them when a pillow collides with the back of her head.

 

“What was that for?”

 

“Don’t ever pull me off the bed like that again.”

 

“Listen, Princess, first things first-”

 

Jasmine’s nails catch on the seam of the second pillow she throws, a cloud of feathers descending over the head of a very un-amused Mulan. 

 

“First things first, I never liked that pillow anyway.”

 

She doesn’t make it to the next thing.

 

~*~

 

They spend the rest of the night tiring one another out as if the sun won’t rise as long as they are moving and filling the darkness with their laughter and moans. Eventually they drift off with the blankets at their feet, warmed only by the other’s skin. Jasmine awakens to find Mulan’s head at her waist, using her stomach as a pillow while her feet dangle off the edge of the bed. She combs her fingers through the others hair like she’d wanted to do since the first time she did it. No helmet wax this time, like water cascading over her thumb and pooling into her hand. She wonders how long it would take before Mulan let Jasmine style it with thorns and flowers or the look on her face should Jasmine paint her favorite dagger in bright colors. 

 

A knock interrupts her thoughts so Jasmine extricates herself from Mulan’s grip and bundles a few sheets about her to answer it. 

 

“Sorry to awaken you, Sultan.”

 

The court consult. 

 

“Sultan?” She presses the sheets tighter to her front.

 

He suddenly appears nervous, “Fa Mulan has surrendered her title to you.”

 

“What about the hearing?”

 

“Yesterday morning, she informed us you were busy and, respectfully, your presence was not required.  Her people have been unable to locate her and requested the help of the palace. They await her presence outside the gates. ”

 

So that’s why she’d been so eager to spend time with Jasmine only to make herself scarce afterward. Jasmine tells him to tell her himself and snatches the papers from his hands on her way past. Soon she hears simultaneous shouts of  “Pardon me!” and “Why’d she take the blankets!” followed by the crash of something that was probably expensive. She pauses, half a smile forming, then shakes her head and continues down the corridor. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains: The end.
> 
> Also the fighting of demonic forces/depictions of violence.

 

 

Their trek through the desert is a silent one. No songs are sang or stories told and their breaks are short and perfunctory. Mulan had insisted upon seeing Jasmine, but whatever the other woman had used as an explanation for Mulan leaving had left the servants and guard wanting nothing to do with the foreigners. She scribbled a note and sent Mushu into the palace with it only to have him return it still neatly tied and with two words on the front:

 

_Go home_

 

She asks Dao if they can sacrifice a few days journey to stop in Kelis and he approves it. She hasn’t made up her mind whether or not to tell Akbar of her self imposed banishment (she still didn’t know what she’d say to the emperor), but if anything she intended to request that sit down with Jafar. It is after they’ve started down a common trade route that she begins to wonder if there will be anything to sit down at. The servant mentione that Kelis was known for pottery and there were back to back festivals to due to be celebrated in Agrabah and yet they hadn’t come across anyone. The sand covered tracks, but there weren’t even ditches hinting at old camp sites or discarded material. Mulan begins to get a bad feeling all too quickly. 

 

Hours outside of Kelis one of the men lifts his head and points to the sky. Black clouds tinged with purple circled overhead and it was high noon, the clouds focused over one spot in the distance and crawled outward like a mutating spider or many headed serpent. 

 

“Onward!” They chorus, equal parts blood lust and fear mirrored in all their voices. 

 

~*~

Akbar’s mouth is filled with a horrific light as he remains suspended above a pitchfork that rises with every word he speaks. Mulan knows this because he inches closer to it when he answers her question of  what happened.

 

“He’s awoken something dark.”

 

Shang once told her the only spoils of war that never spoiled are the memories. Mulan watches the others spread out in an attempt to ease the never ceasing flames that burn, melt and harden every other home and fruit stand. When they attempt to break inside and save its occupants snakes wrap around their legs and tug them out all while innocents yell for them to come back. 

 

It is while Mulan is slicing the appendages off a beast that can re-grow them that Aladdin appears on a carpet just above her head.

 

“Jafar is at the palace.”

 

“What?”

 

“He’s wished himself into the greatest sorcerer in the world. He’s killed everyone who swore loyalty to Jasmine and her father.”

 

“Where’s Jasmine?” Aladdin doesn’t answer quickly enough so Mulan tugs the edge of the carpet downward ferociously, knocking him off it. “Aladdin, where is she?”

 

“I don’t know. H-he pointed his staff at her and she disappeared, but I have a plan. I think I know where he’s keeping the lamp and if I can make him wish-”

 

She drops her sword and punches him in the mouth. She forgets about honor, logic and tactical thinking and punches him once more for good measure. He fights back and they roll in the sand shouting at one another. At the palace gates she made him promise to be there for her, to never leave her side unless she called for it and not two weeks later he’d watched evil itself point a staff and make her disappear. He shouts back just as angrily that it was all Mulan’s fault to begin with. Jafar’s bird had stayed behind as a spy, echoing Mulan’s words to the Grand Vizier and he’d been able to convince Akbar to go in search of the magic lamp which he promised to use to wish Jasmine eternal wealth and protection. 

 

“What is going on here!”

 

Shang. Mulan stops her fist just in front of Aladdin’s nose.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

“I came to attend your wedding, albeit a little late. Reverting back to your Fa Ping days, I see, stirring up trouble.”

 

“It’s not that simple.”

 

“Let the boy go.”

 

“Yeah, let the boy go.”

 

Mulan twitches her fist and Aladdin flinches, but she swings off him, watching him scramble back to the carpet. 

 

“Pull it together, soldier. If we’re going to take down this so called mighty sorcerer I need you at your best, from what I hear he’s worth ten Shan Yu’s on a bad day.” 

 

He holds out his arm and she lets him help her onto her feet, both their mouths in a grim line, “I’m your man.”

 

~*~

They arrive to war and for the first time since she’s been here Mulan feels in her element. Nothing makes allies like publicly killing enemies and the residents fight back when Mulan and half the soldiers return. None of them are magically enhanced thankfully, but it’s a slow, torturous fight to the gates. When they make it over the wall they’re greeted by a fifteen foot tiger that roars the helmets from their head. Raja. Shang crouches with his sword, but Mulan waves him down, signing a maneuver over the roar of battle and the pacing beast. 

 

He sets up the trap while Mulan tries to remember what Jasmine said about Raja. Shiny things and flowers. Right. She snatches a bunch of flowers and twists them around her sword.

 

“Here kitty.” It roars, but Mulan doesn’t take the smile off her face. Bared teeth is a show of dominance, she knows that much.  Watching Raja carefully she leads it towards the trap, making her sword dance the sunlight over the petals. It works and they leap over the hog tied animal that squirms and continues to roar. 

 

They find Aladdin in the middle of conversation with Jafar, arguing about something until Jafar summons the genie and wishes himself into one. A black lamp falls into Mulan’s hands and Aladdin shouts at her to destroy it, that it’s his only source of weakness. Mulan falters, eyes widening as Jafar spins to glare at her. If she throws it on the ground there’s nothing saying it would break and with his powers Jafar could stop its descent. Instead she lifts it above her head. 

 

“I wish you to reside eternally in the lamp, never to be freed.”

 

His scream breaks glasses and melts gold the time it takes for him to be sucked into the lamp. Mulan’s grip tightens on it, feeling it go hot against her palm with Jafar’s rage.  She tosses it across the room, for as good as it feels to save the day once again, it didn’t change the fact that Jasmine didn’t get to see it. Aladdin walks up to her cautiously.

 

“I did everything I could to save her, but Jafar was too strong.”

 

“No, of course you did. You were in love with her, weren’t you?”

 

“Geez who wasn’t?” he responds without thinking, “Oh man, I’m sorry! I know you cared a lot about the princess even if you weren’t in love with her, not that I was asking she just told me.”

 

Shang steps in before Aladdin could babble on. “Why don’t you hop on that magic carpet and bring the old sultan back?”

 

“On it.”

 

When he’s left Shang places a hand on Mulan’s shoulder. “Let’s go home.”

 

They head out the way they came in so as to untie Raja, hoping the spell Jafar cast was over and the tiger had reverted back to its smaller, nonetheless intimidating size.  What they see makes them both stop mid step.

 

Jasmine with eyes closed in the spot where the tiger had been, naked but for her crown and bits of rubble. Shang looks away while Mulan rushes towards her, dropping to her knees and wiping the dust off Jasmine’s skin. A gigantic hole in the side of the palace has blown silks and canvas into the courtyard and Mulan snatches something soft and purple to cover Jasmine in.

 

“Wake up, please wake up. Princess, sultan, Jasmine. Wake up. I didn’t know it was you, please wake up.”

 

No response. Mulan presses her forehead to Jasmine’s chest, tears running down her cheeks when she brushes away strands of hair to kiss between Jasmine’s eyes. 

 

“You dance like you fight.” For one manic second she thinks the voice is in her head then she realizes the silk is half across Jasmine’s mouth and tugs it away.

 

“And how do I fight?”

 

Jasmine’s eyes open and she lifts a hand that Mulan quickly takes in her own. 

 

“Like a fool.”

 

“I thought you were dead.”

 

“Excuses excuses.”

 

Mulan hugs her and to Jasmine it feels more intimate than their first and last night spent naked in one another’s arms. When she closes her eyes she swears she feels her heart triple beat in her chest.

 

But they don’t kiss because Fa Mulan isn’t that kind of woman, the kind of woman who takes advantage of another woman in shock who probably doesn’t remember she has valid reasons to be angry at her and those reasons don’t disappear just because she saved her life after mistaking her for a giant man eating beast and lured her into a trap with something pretty and bright.

 

They kiss after the memorial for those fallen in the battle with Jafar; after Jasmine insists they not destroy the lamp, but bronze it and lock it away for Jafar to contemplate his sins in peace. It’s a decision steeped in pity as well as justice and the people applaud her for it. Mulan kneels in the courtyard where it seems like years ago they flirted with another beneath the blossoming trees while nosy servants and soldiers looked on. It’s almost exactly the same except the trees are falling out of season and Jasmine is dressed in the flowing robes and hat of her new position as sultan. 

 

“Agrabah could not wish for a better ruler than the one standing before me.”

 

“Or a better alliance if your emperor is anything like you.”

 

“Goodbye Sultan.”

 

“Goodbye Fa Mulan.”

 

Jasmine steps forward, pressing her lips to one side of Mulan’s cheek, then the other, then a peck on her lips. Mulan sways forward and receives another and another until the servants turn their attention to the palace walls which suddenly appear very interesting. Shang frowns, arms crossed. 

 

“Is that a typical Agrabah farewell?”

 

Aladdin laughs. “I think you better start unpacking again.”

 


End file.
